When He's Gone
by kitkatsaymeow
Summary: Kim's older brother is kidnapped for unknown reasons, leaving her confused and alone with an abusive father. She meets Jack, who assists her in her search. But what she doesn't know is that he has a secret, one that could cost them both their lives. Kick.
1. When He's a Friend

**Hey peeps! So this was the first day of Thanksgiving break, and I thought I'd bless you guys and give y'all something to be thankful for: updates for SQ and INI, and a BRAND NEW STORY!**

**I hope you like it and I apologize for any errors. If you guys write good reviews, I'll make sure to update this weekend.**

* * *

**KIM**

My father checks the monitor and continues dissecting. I wrinkle my nose as the smell of formaldehyde reaches my nostrils.

"Do you have to do this?" I ask, fanning the air away from my face.

Murmuring from behind safety goggles, he says, "I am this close to creating the hybrid of a bull and an ape—almost like a combination of King Kong and the Minotaur. And it'll be a robot—hopefully like an automaton I can control with a remote."

I sigh and hoist myself up onto a stool. "And if you succeed? Wouldn't it run ramped all over the US killing and mauling people? After all, those are two wild animals."

My father ignores me. Ever since he became Dr. Richard, he has become less and less my father, and more and more the mad scientist. Every hour of every day is dedicated to finding the new greatest secret of the universe.

Jerry, my brother, was the only one who really cared for me. I could talk to Jerry about anything. He was my best friend, and he is now. I can cry on his shoulder and laugh at his jokes. He is like the father I never really had.

Jerry didn't want to follow in our father's footsteps and be a scientist. He had always had his heart set on being a marine. When he moved out at 18, he and Father had an argument over his future. Eventually he hugged me goodbye and stormed out of the house, leaving me with no family. I don't consider my dad family. He's more like my professor.

I turn away from the grotesque sight of the half-formed hybrid and glance at the clock.

"It's seven o' clock," I say, and grab my backpack. Every Friday at this time, I leave.

"Have fun at gymnastics, Kim," he murmurs, preoccupied. I walk out of the room and roll my eyes. My father wouldn't care if I was going to outer space, but he would freak if he knew I was going to my brother's house, which I am. He had barred me from seeing my brother ever again after their fight, but Jerry wanted me to visit every Friday.

I pull out my cell phone and call him. "I'm ready. Can you come pick me up?"

"Sure, Kimmy. Just wait a few minutes." he replies.

"Don't call me Kimmy!" I protest, but he just chuckled and hangs up.

True to his word, my brother shows up in record time.

"Quick," he says, "get in before Dad looks out the window and sees me."

"Right," I retort, "like he'd ever take time to gaze out his window when he's got his precious science projects to work on."

Jerry laughs heartily and shifts his car into gear. We drive and he tells me life is difficult for him.

"I went to boot camp for a year but my girlfriend made me pull out. She's worried I'll be hurt," he complains, "and she's forbidding me from seeing my good friend Rudy who's the son of the commander of the army because she's afraid he'll persuade me to rejoin."

I try to be understanding, but my mind is wandering. Lately I feel Jerry has been getting more distant. I'm worried he'll run off with his girlfriend and leave me.

We arrive at an ice cream place and he helps me out of his truck. His dark hair shines in the fading sunlight and his skin matches mine in tone. How alike we are, and yet so different.

I ask for a vanilla cone with sprinkles and Jerry gets chocolate, like always. The warm summer air makes this the perfect night for ice cream.

Jerry and I walk to a nearby bench and relax as we watch the sun set in the west. I lick my cone and sigh. This continually relaxes me. Jerry turns to look at me.

"Hey, Kim, do you ever think Dad would want to talk to me?"

I shake my head. "He doesn't even really care about me anymore. You, the child he detests? I don't think he'd give you a second of his time."

Jerry seems hurt. "Oh."

"I didn't mean it like that," I say quickly. "He just doesn't care about anyone anymore. He's more absorbed in his science than getting to know his own children. Last night I went hungry because he stayed at the lab late."

"What?!" Jerry gasped. "Why didn't you call me? I could've brought you something!"

I shrug. "It's not a big deal."

Jerry turns back to face the sunset, which is now glowing with a fiery red aura. His face is washed with emotions. Hurt. Anger. Fear.

I feel sorry for him. Our father always disliked him, but I never really put myself in Jerry's shoes. He must've felt neglected all those years. Jerry turns back to me, about to speak, but suddenly his brown eyes widen in terror.

"_Kim_!" he cries.

I am swept off the bench with what seems like a large stick. Landing hard on my side, I get a clear view of a masked man with electric blue eyes yanking my brother to his feet.

Jerry throws the man off of him and tries to run.

Suddenly two other men are there, hanging on to both his arms. I attempt to sit up, but I immediately feel a sharp pain in my arm.

Jerry struggles and I am hoisted up by the first man.

"_No_!" I shriek. I am keenly aware of his rank breath on the back of my neck. His beefy arm is tight around my neck and I feebly kick my legs.

"Come with us or she gets hurt," the man hisses. Jerry takes one look at me and stops moving.

My vision is shifting. I know it's only a matter of time before I pass out. The two men carry my brother to a black truck, and as soon as he's tossed in the man releases my neck and sprints after them. He leaps into the passenger's seat and the car speeds off.

"Jerry!" I scream. Hot tears scald my cheeks. I gasp as beautiful, rich oxygen fills my lungs.

Other people from the ice cream shop come rushing to my aid. I'm so traumatized I can barely tell what's going on. Someone asks for my parent's phone number. I hear sirens. One nice lady gives me a hug and protects me from all the nosy bystanders.

Before I know it, I'm in the crushing embrace of my dad. When I look up, he seems furious until he sees all the people. Then his face breaks out in a smile. He waves and winks at the men and women who seem to have swarmed the ice cream shop from nowhere, taking in the picture of the joyful father and heartbroken daughter.

I wipe the tears from my eyes. My vision is still returning from the masked man. Police officers are yelling at us to describe the scene, and I see my father motion toward me. I stare at him in disbelief. Suddenly I explode.

"How can you just stand there posing when Jerry was just kidnapped and needs our help?!"

My father's face goes stiff. "I disowned Jerry a long time ago. Let the police find him. Good riddance, I say."

I stand there, rooted to the spot and shocked at what he said. Good riddance? Jerry is all I have. Then, without turning back, I sprint toward home as fast as I can.

* * *

"Kimberly Crawford, you get back here now!" My dad climbs out of his truck and jogs up to me as I fumble with my keys to open the front door.

He blocks my path. "There are some things I need to know." His face is completely red with rage. "Why were you with Jerry?"

I duck underneath his arms and walk into our living room, which hasn't been clean since Dad moved in and strewn with science notes and contracts.

"Kimberly, you answer me—" he starts, frothing at the mouth. I am so fed I whip around and march up to him, fuming.

"You don't care about Jerry and you don't care about me. How can you just disown a child who looked up to you at first but didn't want to be exactly like you? He has his own destiny! You can't choose everything for him!" I yell.

"Don't you defend him!" My father shouts at me.

I ignore this loudly spoken comment and continue. "But of course you can't see all this because you're too wrapped up in your stupid science projects! And now, you turn your back on Jerry completely? He could be hurt, or imprisoned, or worse." I start to tear up and there's a quiver in my voice, "Jerry could be killed, but you don't care! You never have!" I end, my face mirroring his in color. I look him dead in the eye and wait for his lame excuse.

His eyes go dark and he says very calmly but deadly, "Don't you mention his name ever again in my house. Ever. You understand me?"

I don't answer him. Then, as if overcome by some dark sense of authority, he hits me across the face, hard.

I'm completely stunned, partly from the blow and partly from the emotional hit.

With tears streaming down my cheeks and a red mark on my face, I say, "Mom would've never allowed this, any of this. If only she had known she'd married a monster like you!"

With that, I run out the door, slamming it behind me. I don't look back. I won't miss it at all.

I run until I come into the woods, and then I collapse against a tree. As the events of the past hour catch up with me, I slide down the bark and crouch, with my head in my hands. My body is suddenly wracked with violent sobs, and I cry harder than I ever have before. I miss my mother very much. She died when I was only three months, but Jerry had told me all about her. She was pretty, he said, with long blonde hair like me, and as many freckles as the stars in the sky, which he has. She was in a hit-and-run accident coming home from the grocery store. The other driver was never found. My father was more worried about the money we lost on groceries than what happened to my mother and complained to me about it for years. That should've been my first clue. From three months to fifteen years, I've had a long time to think.

Finally the weeping subsides, and I just sit there, staring blankly at the forest around me.

Then a branch cracks behind me. Loudly. I stiffen and immediately turn on a dime, kicking out with my leg in a well-placed spinning kick right to the chest. I hit the person square and center, knocking them to the ground.

On further investigation, I see it's a boy my age, with nut-brown skin and shaggy, dark hair. He's wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and I realize just how cold I am. With jean shorts and a tank top, I'm not exactly fit for running cross country trying to find Jerry. Even though it's the middle of summer, the air is colder today than usual.

The boy groans and stands up. His eyes are as dark as his hair, but not cruel dark like my father's. They have a warm glow to them.

He's holding his chest and I immediately feel bad.

"I'm sorry," I say. The boy grimaces and nods.

"No problem," he replies. I can see the wind was completely knocked out of him. He wipes the dirt off of his clothes and sticks out his hand.

"I'm Jack," he says. I shake his hand.

"Kim," I respond. "What're you doing out here at this time of night?"

He shrugs. "I was just exploring. I saw you crying by the tree and I wanted to see what was wrong."

It's my turn to shrug. "Oh, my father's a monster and my brother's kidnapped, but other than that everything's fine." I feel tears in my eyes but I viciously wipe them away.

"I'm sorry," he says. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I reply. The truth is, I just met this kid and I'm not so sure I can trust him. He could be helping the kidnappers for all I know.

"I have to go," I say, and try to step around him.

He blocks my path. "But you can't leave now! It's eight at night! Why don't you come and we can get you some warmer clothes and something to eat."

"I'm good, thanks." I try once again to bypass him.

"I won't take no for an answer," he warns, and steps in front of me.

Frustrated, I say, "Fine! I'll stay for one night."

"Good. Just follow me."

With that, he sprints off into the forest. Startled, I go after him but get lost in all the trees. By now it's almost completely dark and I can't see which way he'd gone.

"Jack?" I call. "Jack?"

I get no answer. I shiver as a cold breeze tickles my neck and sends icy spears into my arms and legs. I cross my arms to try to conserve body heat.

Angrily, I kick at a nearby tree. I knew he couldn't be trusted. Only Jack has my trust, and for now I'm giving it to no one else. Maybe he is working with the kidnappers. I kick at the tree again, only making contact with something smaller and harder.

"Ow!" a voice says. Through the shadows I see it's Jack. I accidentally kicked him in the shins.

I scowl and slug him in the shoulder, hard.

"That's for leaving me behind."

He rubs his sore body parts. "Sorry. I got a little excited. Let's go now. Hold on to me so you don't get lost again."

I hold his shoulder, and this time we walk. Before I know it, we're at the end of the woods and entering a clearing, with a tiny shack in the middle. It looks ordinary and I'm surprised. I don't know what I was expecting, but whatever it was it certainly wasn't this. The roof is rusted and the windows are boarded up. I follow Jack to the door, which he courteously opens for me. I thank him and proceed into the cabin.

"Remember, one night," I remind him. Jack nods and comes in behind me. The house—though I'd barely call it that—has barely any furniture. There's a small table that looks rickety and seems to be capable of falling at any moment. A cardboard box serves as a pantry. To my right are a cot and some blankets resting on top. That's his bed?

"It's so…." I can't think of a word.

"Small? Tiny? Empty?" Jack supplies. I nod, hoping he doesn't take offense.

"Do you live here by yourself?" I ask. He shrugs.

Jack walks over to the box and picks up a small cluster of grapes, which he tosses to me. He takes out another one for himself and sits at the table. He pops one fruit in his mouth. I taste one, and they're very good.

"How long have you lived here?" I say as I eat another grape.

"About two years," he replies. "My parents died in a cruise ship accident."

My eyes widen. "I'm so sorry! That cruise ship was in the headlines. It was big news."

He nods and keeps eating. We sit in awkward silence for a little while until it gets too weird. Then Jack stands up. He points over at a bucket in the corner filled with clean water.

"Feel free to wash your hands. I changed the water today."

I get up to do so, but suddenly Jack goes limp and crumples to the ground.

* * *

**So I hope y'all have a great Thanksgiving, enjoy the turkey, and spend time with your family...don't be a couch potato :)**

**See y'all later and check out my other stories!**

**—Kit Kat**


	2. Chapter 2

**Happy Thanksgiving guys! I felt very happy and Fanfiction-y today, so here's another chapter :) Thank God for an amazing year! Again, I apologize for any errors.**

* * *

**JACK**

Without warning my knees buckle from under me and I collapse onto the floor with a thud.

"Jack!" Kim cries. "Jack?"

But I'm in another world.

The man forces me to hand him the slip of paper. I don't know where it came from, or what's on it. The man has a short goatee, a long face, and cold blue eyes. I have never seen him before, but some part of me knows what I'm doing here and who he is. Goatee-man reads the paper and chuckles. It's a deep and guttural laugh, sending prickles down my back.

"Good. Very good." With pride in his dark, bottomless eyes, he plops a pouch into my palm. The materials inside jingle. I realize it's money. Taking a moment while Goatee-man studies the paper again, I check out my surroundings. I'm apparently in an alley. There's a padlocked gate on one end, and an open street, like in a city, on the other. A billboard hangs on a building across the street, proclaiming: LOVE ICE CREAM? A CASSIE'S CREAM IS COMING TO A STORE NEAR YOU!

"Now, I expect to see you again in exactly one month at this time," the man says, tearing my thoughts away from the billboard. He taps a watch he's wearing and I get a quick glance before he shoves his hands in his pocket. It's 3:02 and thirty-five seconds. So, three o' clock.

"And if you don't come, you'll be sorry you ever lived," he warns. I don't respond. After a pause, the man pulls out a gun.

"All right, beat it, kid. I wouldn't want to waste another messenger because he's slow on his feet." The man laughs at his own joke. Then he motions with his pistol. I don't need to be told twice. I run out of the alley, and blinding sunlight hits my eyes. Squinting, I make out the silhouettes of tall buildings on the horizon.

I turn to the nearest man and ask, "Sir, do you know what the date is?"

The man smiles. He wears glasses and is almost bald. He was hunched when I walked over but now he stands straight; his smooth Southern accent is obvious. "Of course, lad. It's June the third—"

Before he can finish, I'm whisked away.

I wake to cold water in my face. Kim is standing over me with the bucket I use for my sink. Water drips off my face and soaks my shirt.

Sputtering, I sit up, leaning on my elbows. "What…?"

Then my vision sharpens and I see the worry lines etched in her brow.

She helps me up, and I shakily blink to clear my head. Kim looks concerned.

"Are you alright? What happened?"

"I don't know," I reply half-truthfully. June third, the nice man had said. So I would have to meet that strange man on July third at three in the afternoon.

I've had this dream before, and I think even though I was in it, it wasn't me. So why am I seeing it so clearly?

Kim looks at me as if pondering something. "Can I trust you?"

I blink, a little surprised by this question. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good, cause I need to tell someone."

"Tell me what?"

She takes a deep breath and lets it all out. It's long, but she tells me about her mom, and the car crash, her brother being kidnapped, pretty much everything that's happened to her up to now.

When she finishes we sit in silence. I don't know what to say, but she seems pretty comfortable not saying anything.

She stands up quickly and begins to walk toward the door. "Come on."

"Where are we headed?"

"To my house."

"If you have a house then why were you out here?"

"My father's a jerk."

She sounds so bitter and angry I close my mouth and just let her lead. We walk back through the woods. As we exit the trees, she finally talks. This time she just sounds plain sad.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you. It's just that my father betrayed me. He never cared about anyone but himself and when my brother was kidnapped, he completely stopped caring at all."

Kim suddenly lets loose a muffled sob but chokes the next one down. We stop, and in the dim light of a streetlamp, I see tears shining on her cheeks.

"Hey," I whisper soothingly. "It's going to be okay. You'll see."

On impulse I pull her to me and hug her. I've never hugged a girl before, but her body heat helps prevent the late-night chills. I haven't known Kim for very long but I already trust her as a friend. She melts into the embrace, crying freely into my shoulder. I hold her until the weeping subsides, and then I release her.

She wipes her face to clear the tears, and says, "I'm sorry. I needed to let that out."

"Don't apologize. You may play strong but you're also human, and humans cry."

Kim composes herself and finally tells me. "As we were walking back to your home, I found in my pocket the house key I never returned. We'll use that to get in, steal some food, and maybe trash the house if I feel like it. Don't worry, though. My father's sacked at about seven thirty. He won't wake up."

So we continue on and soon we arrive at a tall, dark house. No lights are on.

"Gloomy place," I comment.

"Tell me about it," she mutters as she fits the key into the lock. As she crosses the threshold, she freezes.

"Oh no," she whispers with horror. "I forgot my dad has a security system."

Kim

I am so scared now, I'm paralyzed. If my dad finds me, he'll lock me in here and never let me out. He'll probably throw Jack out, and the boy will never be able to find his way home in the dark. I look over at the security panel next to the front door and gasp.

"What?" Jack whispers urgently. "Do you hear him?"

I giggle a little as my heartbeat slows. "No," I say, and motion to the panel. It's blank and dark. "He forgot to turn it back on. Bless his lazy soul."

Jack breathes a sigh of relief and we enter. My ex-home still looks the same. It's still messy and cluttered, and doesn't seem to be the place where a scientist might live.

I walk over to the pantry, which is open—as usual, I might add—and point to the food.

"Help yourself," I say softly.

As Jack begins pulling out snacks, I walk up to my room and survey it. Not a thing has changed. Looks like my dad hasn't missed me at all. Then I notice something in the corner that brings tears to my eyes. In a frame on my dresser, there used to be a picture of me and Jerry on his graduation day. Now the frame is completely shattered, and the picture ripped in two. I rush to the photo. I pick up Jerry's half and put it carefully in my pocket.

Dad will pay, I think as I pick up a knapsack hanging on a hook. Shouldering the pack, I go back downstairs to Jack.

"Look what he did!" I hiss, showing my friend the ripped photo. "Look at what he did to me!"

Jack studies the picture and nods. "That's just cruel. Is that Jerry?"

"Yeah."

Jack turns around and shows me the food he picked out. He's got fruit in a plastic bag, and a couple loaves of bread. There are some water bottles next to it, and a few mini-cereal boxes. There're a couple more items, but I don't really look.

"Is that enough?" Jack asks. I nod and take out the knapsack I brought down from my room. We stuff the food into the bag and make sure it'll hold. Jack swings it around, and with a crash a nearby vase shatters onto the floor.

"Let's get out of here," I say, shoving the half-picture into my pocket.

Jack complies and shoulders the pack. We head to the open door and peek out to make sure no one sees us. Just as we start to walk out, there's a bright light that shines behind us.

"You!" my dad's voice booms.

* * *

**So I hope y'all had fun with your families today. Can't believe we're this far into the school year already...**

**—Kit Kat**


	3. Chapter 3

**DR. RICHARD CRAWFORD**

I lay in bed, not sleeping. All I can think about is Kim. That rebellious and unruly child! After all I've given her, she decides to go behind my back and interacts with Jerry. I just can't believe it. I wanted them both to be successful scientists like me. They're not seeing it the way I see it. They have these ridiculous notions of 'friendship' and 'love'. Love and friendship have no place in the science world. Even as a child, I had no friends.

"Hey Richard Chubby! Are you going to invent something that makes you lose weight? 'Cause you need it (snicker)!" The other kids generally made fun of my stomach and weight. Then there was the time one of the bullies, Milton, crushed my science project in twelfth grade. I had made an amazing windmill invention that took carbon dioxide, and using the chemicals found in plants, changed it directly into oxygen which filled up a tank, where I paid a person to put on a mask and breathe it in to prove it was really changed. I sigh. I remember it fondly. I was a genius even back then.

Then Milton ripped out all the tubes and said, "Good luck getting an A, loser."

I had cried, yes. But I vowed to become so amazing that no one could ever make fun of me again. And I succeeded. I showed that Milton who was boss. I am the most prosperous scientist in the world. I don't understand why Kim made such a big deal about her brother when I have my science to worry about. If I don't get this project out soon, people are going to forget who I am. Maybe I shouldn't have married. Maybe I should've stayed single. Then I wouldn't have to have worried about my ex-wife—and the money she cost me—and her two annoying and burdensome children.

Suddenly, I hear a crash. My vase! I stay completely still. The only sound I hear is beating of my heart and the blood rushing through my veins. Is it a squirrel? No. A raccoon, possibly? It couldn't be big enough to break my expensive china! Then I hear loud whispering.

Someone is in my house. How could they have gotten past the security system? For that matter, how did they open the front door—oh. Who's the only person who has a key to this house besides me? Kim. Fear jumps readily up my spine and hangs onto my neck with its claws, and it seems to add ten pounds to my weight. I climb out of bed and grab the flashlight I keep beside my bed at all times. I tiptoe down the stairs, where I see two silhouettes, one with a knapsack. I click on the flashlight, and Kim's blonde hair flashes in the light as she whirls around with a boy at her side. So, my little rebel has found herself a boyfriend.

"You!" I roar.

* * *

**JACK**

Dr. Crawford is really disgusting. This is my first thought as I look him over. He sleeps in sweat shorts—that I doubt he's uses for their original purpose—and he has no shirt on. Kim's face shows horror and revulsion. I can't blame her. I can imagine how he treats her; the man has small, cold eyes filled with anger. He's losing his hair, and his nose takes up most of his face. He has an enormous stomach, covered with dark hair like a carpet. I take a step back and watch as his calculating eyes sweep over me. Then he chuckles, bitterly and somehow maniacally.

"I knew you'd be back, Kim. And with a friend too!"

Kim glances at me, then at the door. It happens so fast I don't think her dad sees it. Her meaning is clear: We have to make a run for it.

I pretend to throw something over his shoulder, and he tries to find it. While his attention is diverted for a second, Kim throws open the door and we dash out. Her father realizes what's going on and charges after us, bellowing like a madman. His fleshy arms jiggle from his ungraceful movements, and we easily outrun him, like gazelles from a clumsy and overweight lion. The backpack hits my shoulder every time my feet pound the ground. I stop at a nearby streetlamp to catch my breath, but Kim pulls on my arm.

"We have to keep going," she pants. "My dad may be stupid, but he'll call the police. We can't stop now. We'll run to the county line. It's only a mile from here."

So we keep running until we pass the line and our chests are heaving from exertion. Kim leans against a post and, without warning, one of her legs gives out and she collapses. I walk over to assist her, but she waves me off.

"I'm fine," she promises, but she can't get up.

"Are you alright?" I ask. She nods.

"Yeah. I think I just hurt my knee on a bump in the road."

I have her lean on my shoulder and drag her to the nearest building: an old, condemned church that the county must've forgotten to tear down. There are no lights on, meaning no one is here. The front doors swing loosely on their hinges, making it easy for us to break in.

I lower Kim onto a pew, and she immediately shrieks.

"There's mildew!" she cries, lifting up her hands so I can see they're covered in the mossy substance. She decides to sit up, and I take a look around the church.

An altar sits crookedly at the bottom of a few stairs. The pulpit rests at the very top, looking down over the benches.

In one of the aisles, I see a gaping hole, where a beam from the ceiling must've fallen through. When I look back at my friend, I see she's made herself comfortable on the bench. Her feet are propped up on the armrest and she's nearly asleep. Then I wince as I look at her knee. It's purple and swollen. I wish I had ice.

I know she'll hate me for this in the morning, but I rip up a small board from the floor covered in mildew. The material is freezing, and I place it gently on her leg. It'll be warm by sunrise, but maybe it will help.

Satisfied, I turn to find a bed for myself. I take the chair opposite Kim's and try to sleep. It's about ten at night and I'm exhausted, but all I can think about is my vision. Today is June twenty-eighth, meaning I have five days to find the city where "I" met that creepy man. I have to find out who he is, who the eyes I was seeing that dream through belong to, and—most importantly—we should find Kim's brother.

Something clicks and my eyes snap open. Could her brother's disappearance and the strange man with the slip of paper be linked somehow? What if that man was the one who gave me that money and the one who kidnapped Kim's brother? As this thought settles in, everything seems eerily quiet. The sound of silence is deafening—to be cliché about it. My whole body is tense, as if expecting the man to pop out of nowhere and kill me. But sometime in those long hours, sleep takes a hold of me and I drift off.

* * *

**KIM**

I slowly open my eyes to the sound of chirping. There're two birds outside a cracked window near my bench spinning a melody, but the caw of a crow shatters the song, like two flutes and a cymbal.

I look over at Jack, who is sleeping still. His brow is furrowed as if in deep concentration and I give a small giggle. Jack is never one to relax. Still smiling, I glance at my leg and scream. There's a mildewed board lying on my leg, and my knee is damp. I throw the wood away and wipe my leg with my shirt. Ick! When Jack wakes up, he is so dead. My annoyance subsides as I stare at my knee. It's still slightly purple, and I think I might've sprained it. Though I'm irritated with Jack, the cold mildew seems to have worked slightly. I drag myself off the pew and shuffle over to the sleeping boy. I tap him on the shoulder and wait. My watch says it's seven thirty, so we should get moving. I have an idea that might help us find Jerry. I'm surprised and glad that Jack, a boy I've known for one night, is willing to go wherever it might take to help me find my brother.

Before I get choked up again, I poke Jack harder. He doesn't stir. I sigh.

Suddenly, sirens start up. I have to strain to hear them, but in a few seconds they're loud and wailing. My eyes widen. Maybe the police found us and they'll yell with a megaphone: "COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!" like they do in the movies. With a shove, I nearly knock Jack off the bench. He regains consciousness with a start and looks around wildly.

"July 3rd!" he cries, but when he sees me he relaxes.

"What?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"Nothing."

I pull on his arm to hurry the awakening process. "I hear sirens. My dad must've started the search. We have to go."

Jack is immediately alert. He yanks himself off the floor and grabs the knapsack. He takes my hand and helps me to the door, and we peek out of holes dug by termites over the years. We can't see police cruisers yet, which is a good sign. He leads the way and runs into a grove of trees surrounding the church. I limp after him. As we disappear, a couple of police cars pull up the street and about a dozen officers climb out and run up to the church. If the one closest to me looks slightly left, he'll see me and then we'll be toast. I try to limp faster, but for my life I can't keep up with Jack. I guess he realizes this is going nowhere fast and I'll be seen if we don't hurry, so he runs back and scoops me up. I can feel well-built muscles rippling through his shirt, and I shudder. I know I shouldn't be attracted to him when we're running for our lives, but I can't help but wonder what his strong arms would be like caressing my body. We burst out of the small forest and hear police officers start to hack at the shrubs. Jack looks frantically around for a place to hide. A lone tree sits next to a building just outside the woods, and he runs to it. I wait at the base while he climbs. A couple feet up, he grabs my hand and hoists me to the branch he's standing on. We do it this way until we're safely huddled at the top of the tree, silent and alert as owls. My knee is pounding to the rhythm of my heart and it hurts so bad I grit my teeth to keep from groaning.

"It hurts?" Jack breathes. I nod.

Then the police exit the forest as we did, panting and talking amongst themselves.

"Where are those kids?"

"I think that Crawford person is a madman."

"If there were kids, they'd be smart enough not to stick around."

Then comes a strange voice that gives me the chills, and I don't know why. "They can't get to a city. We have to keep them here in the country. I think one of them, the boy, knows something."

Jack stiffens beside me and I give him a confused look.

His eyes say, I'll tell you later.

Our tree branch that we're standing on rustles, and all the talking ceases.

"What was that?" one officer whispers.

Footsteps approach and I look at Jack sadly. This is it, then. Jerry's gone and my father is going to imprison me forever. A tear rolls down my cheek at the utter unfairness of it all. A head peeks up the branches to where we are. It's a man without a front tooth and a scar. His eyes are electric blue and they're so familiar. A gleam appears in them when he sees Jack. The boy next to me absolutely freezes up in terror under the gaze like a deer in the headlights.

"Well, well, well," the man says, and the voice matches the one that made Jack scared before. He grins wickedly. "I found them, boys! Two little birdies hiding up a tree."

Jack isn't moving. I'm terrified of these people, but not as much as losing Jack and Jerry. With adrenaline pumping through my veins and pain through my knee, I lash out at the man with my bad leg—my good one is trapped between the branches—and kick him squarely in the face. Stunned, he stumbles back and puts a hand to his nose, which is now bleeding profusely; the nose itself is twisted at a strange angle. I think I might've broken it.

Before the other officers can react, I shout, "Run!"

Freeing my good leg, I leap from the tree. It hurts like heck, but it can't get any worse than it already is. Right?

I can't tell if Jack is behind me, but I can hear the police officers shouting. I try not to concentrate on it and yet my knee joint is screaming in pain. I run and run until my leg gives way, and I collapse for the second time in two days, behind a small pine tree. Our county has trees tightly packed together, and a building here and there. It can be considered country.

I wait in defeat for the police to come and take me away. As I'm catching my breath, I can only think of Jack. What happens if they get him? What if—

"Kim?" someone whispers. I almost cry in relief. It's Jack! I must not have heard his footsteps.

"Right here," I manage, before things become hazy and I fear I'll pass out. I stay very still, swaying a bit, until my vision goes back to normal. Jack finds me and crouches by my side.

"Where are the—the off—officers-s?" I stutter. My head is swimming, and I dread the pain that I know will hit me like a speeding train any minute now when my brain realizes I'm hurt bad.

"They're chasing after a car they think I'm in. We have to get you to a hospital now."

I struggle to stay conscious. "No. Tell me about that man. Why did you—you behave that way when he found us?"

He shakes his head. "I'll tell you someday, when this is all sorted out."

I get a sneaking suspicion. "Does this have to do with the outburst this morning? Or about—about the dream in your kitchen?"

The guilt is written all over his face. I suddenly become hysterical and tears stream down my face for no apparent reason. I grip his shoulders.

"Tell me!" I cry.

He rips my hands off of him and hisses, "There's no time! We have to get to a hospital or you're going to get hurt further."

My brow furrows in anger. "I'm fine! Tell me or I'll scream. You can't keep this secret from me, especially since I'm involved!"

Jack looks sad, but he just shakes his head wildly and says, "I'm so sorry, Kim. But you need medical help."

His fingers go to my neck and jab a certain pressure point. Right before I lose complete consciousness, the pain suddenly flares up in my knee and I moan. I'm glad I'm going into oblivion…

* * *

**JACK**

I pace in the lobby while I wait for news from the doctor. I'm tall enough to say I'm her sixteen year old brother. The doctor didn't ask for her name when I brought her in. I came stumbling through the door and he just knew it was serious.

I shudder as I remember. Her leg was as big as a grapefruit. A stretcher had taken her away, and now—an hour later—I know that questions will come, and I can't give answers. But mostly thoughts of Kim fill my mind. How can I tell her about the man? She's too beautiful and innocent to be mixed up in all this. But it's my job to protect her, and knowing that she begged me to tell her about the man, I'm feeling guilty. I'm almost positive he's the one from my vision, and he even gave that hint when he said 'we have to keep them away from the city.'

I close my eyes and shake my head to clear it. There're too many clues and questions but no conclusions or answers!

Kim looked panicked when she asked me about that man. Again my thoughts come back from the church. What if all these clues are intertwined? What if the man kidnapped Jerry, and now has some sinister plot to get Kim and me? He didn't look like a police officer, so how was he even involved with them? Maybe they weren't real officers, just fakes that worked for The Mystery Man. With a flash of inspiration I ask the lady at the desk if I can have a paper and a pen. I write:

Say man kidnapped Jerry. But for what? Then he comes after us because we know something. He's also the man in my vision, to whom I gave a slip of paper. What was on the paper? A name? Address? List?

I stop. Name. Jerry was kidnapped about three weeks after when my vision took place. What if the boy's errand was to give a name to the man? And what if the name was Jerry's?

With all this new information running through my mind, I barely notice a nurse tapping me on the shoulder.

"Sir, Dr. Stevens will see you now," she says. I get up out of my chair, stuffing the paper into my pocket and leaving the pen. The nurse leads me out the lobby door and down a stairwell.

"The elevators are only for patients," she explains. I don't really care, though. I'm itching to see how Kim's doing. We finally reach the second floor and she takes me to room number 203 and knocks smartly on the freshly painted door.

The doctor—I'm guessing Dr. Stevens—opens it. He has a soft face and kind eyes. He looks about 30. He shakes my hand and shows me inside. The nurse leaves me with Dr. Stevens. He looks at me for a while, and then pulls back the curtain surrounding the bed. Kim is still unconscious, and her bad leg is held up by pillows.

"We'll need to perform surgery," Dr. Stevens says. His voice is gravelly, and has a monotone sound to it. I start.

"Surgery? How long does that take?" I ask in panic. The man and his friends might be tracking us even now.

Dr. Stevens sighs. "Well, we could operate today, and she'd be out in a week."

I run my calloused hands through my shaggy brown hair. This puts a giant glitch in our plan. Now what? I can't just leave her—she'd kill me if she finds out—but I can't take her with me either. We're sitting ducks to those people. The doctor sees my alarm and probably thinks I'm afraid for Kim.

"Don't worry," he assures me, in a tone of voice one would use to explain something to a six-year-old. "Our doctors are skilled; she'll be all better in no time."

Then his face gets serious, as if now he has his "speaking-to-an-adult" mask on.

"We're going to need to her insurance, birth certificate, and other personal information. Do you have her papers?"

Uh-oh. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. I don't have any of her records. I stall, trying to think of a plan.

"Um, may I use your bathroom before we get into all that?" I ask politely. He nods, and points to the end of the hall.

"I'll be back in about thirty minutes to check on you guys," he says. He starts to walk away but turns around and adds, "I never got your name. What is it?"

"Brett," I say. The lie rolls perfectly off my tongue, and I'm surprised. I can lie, but I don't like it unless I have to. I remind myself it's for Kim.

He nods and walks off, probably to see another patient. I run to the bathroom and lean against the sinks, frustrated. I don't know how to get us out of here. Kim's seriously injured, and we have maniacs on our tails trying to hurt us—or kill us, I don't know. I pace the room, which I do when I get nervous, and come up to the ledge of the bathroom window. I stare out at the welcoming flower beds surrounding the parking lot, when something catches my eye. A van pulls up, hidden behind a tree. Five men in black jumpsuits hop out of it and run toward the hospital. A couple nurses attempt to stop them, but they knock them unconscious with a single practiced jab to the neck. Right before they enter the actual hospital, they tear of their black suits and reveal white doctors' clothing underneath. They pull out surgical masks from who-knows-where and place them on their heads. An unfortunate nurse comes out of the building with a clipboard, and the men seize her. Two men grip her arms as one questions her intensely. She points up toward the building, and I see her mouth, "Room 203."

I get a surge of adrenaline. That's the man and his cohorts. I burst out of the bathroom, back toward Kim's room. 203, my mind keeps screaming. Get to 203. 203.

I accidentally bump into a doctor carrying liquid. I almost spill it, and I think it's Dr. Stevens for one terrifying second. I apologize quickly and continue running. It wasn't him. Phew.

I open the door to Kim's room, and see her restlessly moving in her sleep. This'll be much easier if she's awake, so I shake her shoulder. She opens her eyes, sees me, and smiles. I speak to her urgently.

"Kim, we have to escape. The man who found us in the tree is here with some friends and they're on their way up here now."

She gets the gist, and I detach wires that connect her to the bed. I see a wheel chair in the corner and lower her into it. Then I wheel her out as fast as I can. I make a break for the elevator. What was it the nurse said? It's only for patients. Kim's a patient. I press the down button impatiently until the doors slide smoothly apart, allowing us entrance. Just as the doors begin to close, Dr. Stevens rounds the corner and sees us.

"Brett?" he asks, and then realizes what's going on. His eyes widen and he runs toward us. The doors close just as he touches the reinforced steel. That's a close call. I breathe a sigh of relief, but I see Kim is still scared. Imagine waking up from a restless sleep into running away from doctors and men who want to kill you!

The elevator dings as we reach ground level. As we do, we see the disguised men searching for the stairs. They see us and one of them shouts, pointing in our direction.

"Oh no! Close, close, close!" I murmur as I press the up button repeatedly. Again, close call. I set the elevator for the top floor: the roof.

"Are you crazy?!" Kim yells at me. "We're not here to see the view! We have to get out of here!" She winces, probably because her knee pain has flared up again.

On a whim, I look under the wheelchair for anything useful. We need a miracle now.

As I search, it's like I've been heard. Two bed sheets lay one on top of the other. I pull them out and unfold them, a crazy idea sparking in my mind.

* * *

**KIM**

He's insane. He's gone mad. Parachuting off of a hospital building with _bed_ _sheets_? Yeah right. Like I'm ever doing that.

"It's our only way out, and they're coming for us!" he exclaims. "You have to do it."

He's not going to let up. I hear alarms sound below us, and know I have no choice. He rolls my wheelchair to the edge. The wind blows, and I feel dangerously close to falling and dying. He ties the corners of the sheet to my hands. Then he does the same to himself.

"This is going to work?" I yell over the growing whistle of the wind. My hair is blowing wildly all over my face.

Jack hesitates, then shouts back, "I don't know. If it doesn't, we'll know because we'll be dead!"

"Wow! That's very reassuring." With that last comment, I jump off, leaving my wheelchair behind. I hang in space for a second before free falling. I hear people come onto the roof, and Jack jumps off above me. My arms take the jolt of the movement, and fire spreads up my muscles. About twenty meters before I hit the pavement below, my makeshift parachute catches and I begin to float. Jack becomes even with me, and I see his mouth moving, but I can't understand him.

"What?" I yell.

Muffled, he shouts back, "I said, HIT THE GROUND RUNNING. The impact will shatter your legs if you don't."

I roll my eyes. Jack seems to be the king of happy statements. He reaches the ground first because he weighs more than I do, and I see him pedal the air four feet down until his feet touch the earth, where he runs about ten yards before stopping and shedding the bed sheet. I do the same and before we know it we're safely on the ground about 75 feet below the roof, where we see angry people screaming at us.

Abruptly, Jack smacks himself.

"What are you doing?" I ask. He spits on the concrete, showing his anger at himself.

"I shouldn't have left your wheelchair up there. You need it. Now we have nothing to carry you in."

I bite the inside of my cheek. I wasn't even thinking about my knee. It didn't really hurt when I was running, but now it's throbbing. Now we have a bad problem that doesn't seem to have a by-chance solution. We can't stay here, because the people will catch us in about a minute if we don't get a move on. As that thought crosses my mind, the front door to the hospital opens violently. The five men are the first out, followed by the doctor that we ran away from earlier. Then a bunch of other nurses and doctors trail along behind. There was even a real policeman. It's quite the party.

"Run!" I say, but Jack doesn't, at least not right away. He scoops me up again, like in the forest, and carries me while running for his life. I feel guilty making him do this while he already does so much for me. Finally we turn a corner and everything is still. Jack sets me down and peers around the side to make sure no one's following us.

Suddenly, someone grabs me from behind, covering my mouth and wrapping a strong arm around my waist while lifting me up in the air. My mind flashes back to another time when this exact situation happened…

Jerry struggles and I am hoisted up by the first man.

"Come with us or she gets hurt," the man hisses. Jerry takes one look at me and stops moving.

The person holding me says, "Hey kid."

Jack turns around and sees us. His face goes white and he looks very small.

"Come here or I break her neck." I can tell Jack is scared. I wonder if this man is the one that is chasing us, the one that Jack seems to know.

His eyes look around for possible escape routes, but I know he won't leave me. Finally, he sighs in defeat and comes closer. I can tell he has an idea, the way he's suppressing a smile. When he's five feet away, he gives me a wink, and I know it's time to act. With one strong kick backwards, I hit the most sensitive spot and he howls, letting me go slightly. I wrestle out of his grip and run over to Jack. He picks me up and I tell him to run to the nearest bus station, where we will hop on the closest bus. I find spare change in my back pocket.

"Where are we going?" he asks me softly.

"To a friend's house," I reply.


End file.
